


And The World Doesn't Go On

by Incredibly_volatile



Category: Hermitcraft RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Angst, I can't find the thing that says this is unfinished but my god is this unfinished, Mild Language, Other hermits appear but they sadly probably won't have a large role, Panic Attacks, Time Loop, Time Travel, god what am I doing this is literally my first ever multi chapter thing, i don't know how to write dialogue, idiot plot, not beta read we die like men, planned but not to a lot of detail right now, please let me know if I'm not tagging things correctly, set in S6, this entire damn fic is an idiot plot and I have no regrets over it, this is my first fic! how does this place work
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-21
Updated: 2020-06-17
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:27:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23776852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Incredibly_volatile/pseuds/Incredibly_volatile
Summary: Sometimes the world stutters slightly. However, they're few and far between, and it seems Grian is the only one who notices them. He doesn't mind it until he wakes up one morning, the day after the end of season six, and finds himself in his unfinished base and an incomplete world, from one and a half years ago.
Comments: 39
Kudos: 168





	1. Chapter 1

The lines of code whirled around him, as data constantly flowed in, feeding the wall of binary. There was too much information crawling everywhere for any of it to make much sense, but he could see one thing clearly in it all. Underneath his outstretched hand was a single word. It warped and glitched as time went by, the text somehow still easily readable to his eyes.

"Roll back."

This was it. Once he chose this, he couldn't go back. He chuckled, mildly amused at his unintentional pun.

Was he really going to do this? This was irreversible, and the damage he could cause by doing this could be disastrous, especially at the scale he was planning. Still, the itch of the perfect season stoked his irrationality. He knew this wasn't going to end well, but screw it.

He placed his hand on the option, and everything around him morphed.

———————————————————————————————————————————

Grian sighed, and looked up at his work.

The base was going along nicely, and it finally started to resemble the polished image he'd had in his mind for weeks now. It stood before him, his efforts displayed in a show of white, gray, and blue. He wiped away the sweat that slowly gathered on his forehead from the heat of the midday sun, and the strain of carrying stacks of material, with a smile on his face. He really was excited for this project.

After 4 months since joining the server for the first time, he was getting used to all of it. Grian was becoming more confident, and less reserved, very unlike the shy and intimidated man that he started off as. It didn't take long for him to find out how supportive and kind the rest of the hermits were- the small gifts they sent to him, the nonchalanced smile they gave him whenever accidents happened, or favours were asked of, the real interest they had in any of his builds and ideas. He realised that he felt comfortable. Free- free to do whatever weird builds, dumb shops, and crazy pranks he wanted without feeling judged. It was nice.

Of course, he wasn’t too close with all of the whitelist just yet. He'd been holed up in his main base for a while now, and while everybody was fantastic, he didn't have many excuses to hang out with them out of the blue. Mumbo was the only person he talked to on a regular basis, not just due to the fact they were neighbours, but because his friendship with Mumbo was the reason Grian was even invited to Hermitcraft in the first place.

He glanced across the ocean to see his friend's base. The scale of his base outstanded him. With the framework in place, Grian could tell it just how large it was going to be.

"Talk about overcompensation," Grian muttered under his breath, grinning. As he looked back to his own base, then Mumbo's, then back, he dully considered a redesign. Maybe he could give his base an extra tier...

Actually, he decided that he wanted to make that joke. He grabbed his communicator from out his back pocket and went to text Mumbo.

'I've been looking at your base and I have to say, talk about overcompensation!' He scanned over the message, satisfied it was funny enough, and pressed send.

The world stuttered.

The ground seemed to shift around him, his head spun and he was forced to the floor as gravity overcame him. It was over as quickly as it had started, the earth stabilising underneath his feet once again.

"Woah." He slowly got himself back up again, glaring at the floor in case it wanted to do anything funny again. "That was super weird." Grian eyed the communicator, the device now strewn across the white concrete floor. He must have dropped it during that odd fainting spell. How did that even happen? He never fainted. He wasn't feeling ill or anything, and he had a decent amount of food and sleep in his system, so it couldn’t be that, either. When picking the communicator up, checking it for any cracks that could have appeared when he accidentally chucked it, he noticed that the message he wrote was gone.

Huh. The message probably just didn't send, and it got deleted as it fell. Yeah, that made sense to him. Sure.

Oh well, he won't send the message, then. If the universe deemed the joke bad enough to not be sent, Grian would count that as some blessing in disguise. Joe would appreciate the poetry in that, he mused.

He glanced at the time display on the communicator. He realised should probably get back to work. He had a few minutes too long of a break, and his tower wasn't going to build itself. Taking out and lighting a firework rocket from his inventory, he launched himself up into the sky, ready to get back to finishing the second tier's walls.

Grian quietly hoped whatever thing caused that incident wouldn't happen again.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sure as hell not gonna be uploading this daily (I'd be posting loosely weekly at best!) but since chapter one was really just a prologue, I wanted to give you all a bit more material :D

Life moved on.

Days, then weeks, then months flew by. It didn't mean Grian hadn't had a fair share of shenanigans, though; he fondly remembered the large scale game of tag, the prank war, the creation of Sahara and the hours spent grinding to build its, frankly, unsuccessful shop, the heist to steal a fake time machine while dressed as a hippie.

Looking back, he realised how much closer he was to all the hermits now. As crazy as some of their events had been, they were always done in good spirit. They were also a fantastic way to collaborate with people he never would've thought of working with. If Grian hadn't been so outgoing with some of his ideas, would he have connected with the whitelist as closely? It was obvious to him that the answer was no, and he suddenly felt grateful for everything that had happened in the past one and a half years.

It wasn’t all perfect, though. He still sometimes felt the world shift in that weird way, like the it was trying to catch up with something, or lagging behind. Not in the way everybody becomes sluggish when Mumbo or Doc try to break the world with their large-scale redstone farms; something different, and more disturbing. After the third occurrence, he decided to ask anybody around if they felt it too. Nobody did. When he asked Stress about it, she suggested it could be some sort of medical condition he had, but when she gave Grian a check-over, nothing indicated anything was wrong. All the hermits he mentioned this to agreed, it was rather peculiar.

It didn’t bother Grian. They never lasted long, and it wasn't damaging him in any way, so he tended to just ignore them. But there were times where he felt like he could be going crazy; where a few blocks he swore he placed down never appeared, or an item he stashed away into his inventory couldn't be found when he went to dig it back out.

“Grian, bro! Are you okay? You’ve kind of been staring at that tree for a while now,” Iskall joked, “Do you have a vendetta against it or something?” He laughed in the maniacal way he always did and sat down next to him on the log, putting a hand on his shoulder.

"Sorry, Iskall," Grian turned to face him, only illuminated by the campfire that blazed in the centre of the Sahara courtyard, and the stars that shone above them. "I've just been thinking. It's been a crazy two years, huh?"

"Two and a half, but yeah, it has! I'm really gonna miss this season. I can't believe we're leaving it already." He had a wistful look in his eye, sighing in contempt.

"This, I'm pretty sure, has been one of, if not, the longest season so far," Grian pointed out with a wave of his hand.

"Still felt short!" He couldn't tell if that was supposed to be a joke. But he was right, in a way. Even though so much happened, it all felt like it was only a vague amount of time ago. 

Their conversation settled into a comfortable silence, and he focused on the smell of smoke from oak logs burning, it hanging in the air like a light fog. It wasn't unpleasant, and it helped to retain the warmth that radiated from the fire in the otherwise chilly night. The hermits' chatter was near constant, forming a delightful background noise along with the distant cry of cicadas and crickets. He could hear Joe proudly reciting his latest poem, and Ren and Doc laughing over a joke with Xisuma. There was a faint smell of beer and campfire-roasted food.

It was bliss.

Grian got up from his seat, long after Iskall had left to chat with Mumbo and Stress, and headed towards the crowd where everybody stood around, talking amicably about anything and everything. After about a half hour of drinking and mingling, Xisuma hiked himself up onto a small stair he placed down and set off a firework to get everybody’s attention.

"Excuse me, everyone," he started, giving an extra cough to make sure everybody was listening. "I just wanted to say some words about this season.

"This season has been... remarkable, and you all know that too. In the almost two years we set foot in this world, we have made something absolutely outstanding. From everyone's superb bases, to the shopping district, to the funny mishaps and elaborate pranks-" Tango interrupted with a short comment about the prank war, and everybody laughed. "Thank you, Tango, yes, the prank war too; you all made amazing things with such joy and passion. All of you really came out of your shells this year and ignored your titles as 'hermits', collaborating to create so many beautiful projects and, even more importantly, relationships.

“I feel like I have to thank our newcomer, Grian." Everybody turned to him, and he smiled bashfully at them back. "With all the havoc he caused- the pranking in general, tag, the hippie war, demise, and probably so much more I'm forgetting, he practically single-handedly brought all of us together in a way none of us would have thought of." Cheers rippled throughout the crowd, and Grian couldn't help but blush a little. "So, thank you Grian, for being our little annoying brother and having a hand in getting us closer. We-" Xisuma sniffed, and wiped a tear from underneath his helmet. "We just feel so much like a family, and- and I know I say that every season, but it's obvious that I love you all so much."

He was full out crying now, and there were a mixture of hollers, cheers, and sympathetic 'awws' from all the hermits. Stress even went up to give him a hug, which he gratefully accepted, and soon enough everybody was going in for a group hug, which after a few seconds Xisuma started to jokingly shout to stop, crying still evident in his voice. He waved his hand in the air to signal everybody to stop hugging so he could continue again.

"I... I'm such a derp, I didn't plan an ending to my little speech," Laughter. "But, I'm proud of us all. We made something amazing, and I hope we can make even more amazing things in the future to come." He shouted, "To season six!"

"To season six!" Everyone replied, enthusiastic and with joy.

A few more emotional speeches later, the moon well into the sky, the whitelist began dwindling away back to their bases, for one last sleep and goodbye to all their builds before they left the world and moved on.

Grian yawned. He was getting tired, though he was pretty sure Ren, Iskall, Cub and Doc would have happily stayed up partying until the sun rose over the horizon. He gave a few goodbyes to some, and received hugs from plenty, then turned away to fly back to his place. The sound of fireworks, both from celebration and from hermits flying off, rang out in the sky, and Grian's rockets joined them.

It didn't take long for him to get back home, and he gracefully landed onto the the bottom floor. He was proud of what he built, and while the interior was empty, save from a few chests and shulker boxes, he still enjoyed the peace of his base with the gentle sounds of the sea. He didn't even have a proper bedroom, just a single bed haphazardly placed onto the floor. He still loved it, though.

He flopped onto his bed, tired, but head still buzzing. He really was excited for what was to come. It would be nice to have a fresh start again, Grian pondered. Annoying, possibly, to get back to feeling comfortable with perfectly enchanted diamond tools and armour. He'd miss the comfort of beacons, too- ironic considering what he first thought of them. But, he wanted brand new ideas again. He wanted unfamiliar land and untouched territory. He wanted to move on.

His thoughts became blurry, and it didn't take long for him to fall asleep. He dimly realised it would be the last time he would be sleeping here.

He drifted off the sleep.

Grian woke, groggily, to the sun shining. He could hear the ever familiar lapping of waves against his base, and the wind on his skin.

Wait a minute.

Didn't his base have walls?

His brain finally fully conscious, he frantically looked around from where he sat on the bed. There was no roof in sight. Everything had been deconstructed; the second and third tiers were completely wiped, his chest monster taken with them; the glass circle floor that spread out to sea had disappeared; the outer towers that surrounded the four corners of his base had gone, too.

This couldn't have been a prank.

What happened?


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note the tags! Grian has a bad time for a lot of this chapter. Stay safe! <3

This couldn’t be a prank.

This had to be a prank. 

How could this have even happened? This had to be some practical joke. Somewhere at the back of his mind, Grian knew he was on the edge of hysteria.

This couldn't be, though- this was far too big a scale for any hermit, or even all of them combined, to do in the scale of one night. They demolished a third of his base, for God's sake!

If this was somehow a dumb trick, where were the culprits? They had to be hiding somewhere, right? Grian paced about the floor, looking around, peering in every hiding place he could think of. Nothing. They had to be around somewhere."Hey, guys?" Grian muttered, still searching for anyone hiding, "This was a terrible prank, I'm gonna rate it a hot minus twenty out of ten on Yelp. If you could come out now, that would be nice. It would also be great if you could rebuild all of this, because I'm sure as heck not!" Still no sign of anything.  
Oh, who was he kidding? He was kidding imself. He was actually going to go insane. He was going crazy. This was it- he had been in this world for so long he went insane and imagined his base got magically deleted. This just... wasn't real. It couldn't be. This was just a dream. It wasn't real. He was absolutely going crazy. Oh God, he was going mad and he knew it.

He slowly sat himself on the floor, knees up and hands gripping his hair. The back of his brain screamed that he hadn't been breathing properly for the past minute.

He couldn't do anything. Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes, threatening to spill onto his cheeks. He needed to breathe, now. He needed to-

Breathe. Slowly, in and out, deep breaths like Mumbo told him to. It felt like his lungs couldn't take in air, but he tried to breathe through it anyway. Breathe. In and out. Come on, Grian, get some sense into yourself.

After a few minutes, he had calmed down and opened his eyes that he didn't know he had shut. He tried to think it out for the second time with a calmer approach.

So, it wasn't a joke. Had his base really disappeared? How? Maybe it was a glitch, like how Cleo's dioramas went missing that one time, which Xisuma fixed it by doing weird, admin-y stuff. But then again, that was just armour stands. They were entities, not blocks. Plus, the missing parts seemed too perfect to be a glitch, he reasoned. It was almost like they rewinded his building progress.

Wait, was this just his base?

Grian looked up and out towards Mumbo's base, expecting the wonderfully filled area of towers and pixelated islands of white concrete and cyan terracotta, but a lot of that was gone, too. All his farms and the neat, finshing polish that he always took pride in, didn't exist. Holy shit. Did Mumbo even know what happened? He must have. Was anybody in the chat freaking out about this? He grabbed his communicator, scrolling through the texts.

Everything seemed fine; the only messages were the occasional "Good morning," or requests for supplies. Nobody mentioned anything that was out of the ordinary. He kept scrolling up until he reached yesterday's texts. It seemed all normal, just friendly banter, more asking for material, complaining about lag.

It dawned on him.

Nobody would have been writing those things- it was the finale day yesterday. In fact, he remembered that Doc had written a drunk mini-speech that night, and that was nowhere to be seen. Did it get deleted along with everything else? He had absolutely no clue. That still wouldn't explain why everybody was acting like it wasn't the end of the season.

He didn't understand any of this. He probably shouldn't try to figure it all out by himself. Grian guessed that Mumbo would probably be in his base, pacing about, also wondering what had happened to his mega build. It was time to go investigate.Landing as gracefully as ever, (pulling up too late and stumbling onto the floor,) he landed onto his friend's base, said friend peering into a double chest of his sorting system. Grian regretted not having one, in all honesty. While chaos was his main trait, it started to become really annoying to sort through the mountains of miscellaneous items just to grab one small thing. He told himself to get a sorting system in the next world.

"Hey, Grian!" Mumbo greeted, looking up from his work. It seemed like he had been fixing things for a while, from how his suit jacket had been folded and placed on the floor. "That was a bit of bad timing on your part- I'm knees deep in finishing my auto-sorter right now. Not that I wouldn't mind your company! I just know how you turn off as soon as you see redstone circuitry."

Finishing. He said finishing. He swore he had that all done and dusted ages ago.

"Weren't you all done with that?" He asked, gesturing towards the overly complicated pile of technology."What?" He frowned at Grian, head tilted to the side. "No, I'm not done- I have a bunch more of these units to do, and I still need to do some more testing. I have absolutely no clue why you thought I was done with this thing."

This was confusing Grian more and more. Either Mumbo didn't realise that his creations had vanished, or he just didn't care. Him not caring didn't make any sense- he'd be hearing complaints at the very least. Was it only him who realised what was going on? Surely someone had to know. He'd go check out the shopping district after this and ask any of the hermits wondering about there.

"Dude? Hello? Earth to Grian. You've been staring at my tie for longer than most people do. You good?" Grian snapped out of his train of thought and looked at him guiltily.

"Yeah, I'm good, sorry. I spaced out there, I think I'm just a bit confused, or something. I dunno, I've been really confused this morning."  
“Nothing to be sorry about.” Mumbo stood up and got rid of the dust on his pants. "Maybe you need some rest? It might make sense after a good nap. Always works for me, I can't do this section of the contaption? Boom! Nap!" He flailed around wildly. "I'm right as rain and I can see all the stupid things I did the night before." Grian sighed. "You're right. I might go and do some other errands in the shopping district first, though. I need to ask the hermits some stuff."

"If I may ask, what stuff were you gonna ask them?" Grian paused before answering. He'd sound crazy if the spoon of a man didn't understand what was going on.

"Did you..." Grian swallowed before continuing, "Did you notice anything wrong when you woke up today?" This was the moment of truth. The waves of heat and the ticking and whirring from the mechanical instruments were starting to grate his already frayed patience.

"No? Why, did you prank me again? Please don't tell me you've laid some kind of egg bomb somewhere."

"No, not that. I-" Grian huffed. Did seriously nobody notice? "Am I actually going insane, or have parts of our bases gone missing?"

Mumbo rubbed the back of his neck, looking to the side. “If they have, I haven't seen it. I don't know why you'd think you've gone crazy, though. I mean, God! I wouldn't wish that on anyone, certainly not you. But I haven't seen anything out of the ordinary. Definitely not any missing chunks, or sections, or anything of the sort." He shrugged, glancing back at him.

"Right." Grian felt tears well up in his eyes for the second time that morning. He was wrong. It was all fake. His chest was tight. All of his thoughts told him to get out and get away. Get away so nobody knew how fucking crazy he was. He needed to leave. He choked out a meek thank you for telling him, before turning and flying off towards anywhere else but here, desperately trying not to hear whatever protests Mumbo was shouting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not the happiest with this chapter, but here we are! The game is afoot; the ball's rolling and Grian's crumbling. Sorry, Grian. I'm still working on chapter 4 (oof, I need to start writing more or I'm gonna be behind), but expect it coming in maybe a week or so! Chapter 5 is (hopefully, might be 6 knowing me) gonna be where the real angst starts.


	4. Chapter 4

Grian took the scenic route to the shopping district.

He didn't want to arrive there with puffy eyes and a red face, and he definitely didn't want to be consoled or interrogated by anyone there. It was only going to be him asking the questions today.

He hoped his friend wasn't too upset at his sudden departure.

For once, he decided to use his firework rockets sparingly, gliding slowly next to the clouds in the sky. Trying to calm down, he worked on identifying his emotions. There was one time after he had a panic attack, where Xisuma sat down with him at the admin's prismarine base and had a long conversation about how he was feeling, as well as general support that he was grateful for. Grian wouldn't be surprised if X said he had been a therapist in his past life. He distinctly remembered the smell of the salt-water sea surrounding him and warm chamomile tea, taking sips of his drink as he babbled whatever was on his mind. Even thinking about it now made him feel a little better. He didn't want Xisuma's base to be gone.

Anger was the first thing he noted — frustration, more specifically. Frustration in being the only one not seeing things he knew were there before. Frustration in the fact that nobody cared. Another rocket fired with a whizz. Fear was also a large part of how he felt, too. What if he was wrong? That he had been imagining things? What would happen to him if they realised he was going crazy? He was scared of that.

Breaking out of his pondering, he suddenly became aware that the tree ahead was a lot closer than he first thought.  
Grian yelped as he twisted his body to avoid the branches, hastily pulling up as much as he could to avoid a harsh landing. His scraped both arms as he rolled onto the grass and dirt below. These displays of inelegance didn't help demonstrate how he was supposed to be the good flier on the server. His arms were going to sting for a while.

"Ouch," he muttered to nobody in particular, dusting himself off and rolling down his sleeves to cover up his scuffs. He tried to figure out where he fell. He wasn't too familiar with the other districts, since he spent most of his time in the Futuristic district or around the Shopping district, but he could tell from the mix of cobblestone, stone brick, and oak wood that he had landed in the Medieval one. He did say he was taking the scenic route, but this was straight up overshooting. He'd have to turn back and head to where he was actually planning on going.

When he finally arrived his destination, the first thing he saw was a lack of shops. He took a stroll, checking out the area for any changes. The place seemed so bare compared to yesterday, the charisma of crowded shops selling all sorts of both funny and useful items. The shopping mall, his own dumb shops, even Sahara and a large number from ConCorp, were nowhere to be seen. He hated it. He longed to scream or cry or both, but that wouldn't help anyone. There was no way somebody wouldn't have noticed their disappearance. This was ridiculous; what could the server have done to destroy the time and effort they poured into those builds? He didn't fancy to redo his again, and he knew, as patient as the hermits were, it was unlikely they would rebuild theirs too. It was dejecting to know that the life the area once had was gone.

He saw Ren a few metres away, eyes scanning for a store that sold the material he needed. When he saw him, he grinned and waved. It was questioning time. He considered whether it would be worth it to change into his 'Sherlock Grian' outfit or not. While dressing up and acting all grandiose was entertaining, it seemed too much of a hassle. Plus, he wanted to be as inconspicuous as possible. He started to walk towards him, mentally preparing what he would say next.

Turned out that Ren was as clueless about the situation as Mumbo was. The more Grian tried to explain and nudge him into realising, the more confused he had gotten. It was of no use. He thanked him for listening and went to look for anybody else around. He wasn't going to stop.

Someone had to know.

He spent the rest of the day inquiring, but to no avail. Stress, Impulse, False, none of them understood. By the end of it, Grian had the urge to punch something. His mind helpfully remarked that violent tendencies were probably a symptom of insanity.

No, he argued back, this was normal. He was upset and frustrated, and he had been all day. He was allowed to feel this without thinking he was crazy. He was ill-tempered, and rightfully so. This mini investigation wasn't going anywhere, and he wasn't any closer to figuring out what in God's name had been happening today. He should head back and rest.

He just wanted to understand.

Back at his base, Grian didn't rest. He looked through the messages on his communicator again, sighing. He had to be missing something. Some small detail he looked over which would explain everything. This much puzzling and brain power was going to give him a headache in a bit, but he could deal with that. He was missing something, and he was going to find it.

The only thing he could note was the weird nature of the messages, like the ones from yesterday were deleted along with everything else. That didn't make sense. He thought solely blocks and entities- physical things- were wiped out by whatever glitch thing this was, not messages. They weren't entities, they were just code written in his communicator, which was immune to despawning or being lost. He frowned. 

He spotted it. The key to all of this, a tiny detail he had looked over. On the top right-hand side of the screen, three numbers declared a date.

It was November the 20th, 2018.

... That was a glitch, right? He hurriedly typed onto the group chat, thinking of a reasonable excuse.

Grian> Guys, my communicator reset, need to enter the date. What is it today??

Iskall85> November 20th my dude! :D

Iskall85> 2018, lol

Grian> Cool, thanks Iskall!

So, it wasn't a glitch. That meant...

He had gone one and a half years into the past.

No way. No way. That was sci-fi story stuff. As much as he enjoyed playing make-believe, with all the ludicrous things he's done, he knew that there was a difference between real life and actual, tangible time travel. How did this even happen? What otherworldy shit did he do?

This shouldn't have happened.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry for leaving you guys for a whole month, omg. I ended up getting swept into a bunch of new projects and art things and I just... Didn't have time to work on this! If you could tell, this chapter is kind of half finished/unpolished. I don't have the braincells to work on that chapter anymore, lol.

**Author's Note:**

> Hi. I don't know what I'm doing in the slightest. Please help me and let me know if I've messed up anywhere! You can see fanart and when I update (not regular!) at Fudgecake-Charlie on Tumblr.


End file.
